


To Noise Making (Sing)

by NightValeian



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Met Before The Fall (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Wives, Nightmares, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Singing, Slow Dancing, The Fall (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 11:30:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20357761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightValeian/pseuds/NightValeian
Summary: There had been a time when Aziraphale had loved singing.Crowley isn't sure why she ever stopped.





	To Noise Making (Sing)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I guess I write Ineffable Wives now.

Crowley could count on one hand the number of times she'd heard Aziraphale sing in the last 6000 years–not that the aforementioned angel had any inkling that the demon was keeping track to begin with.

Angels "simply didn't sing"–at least that's what Aziraphale had always insisted. The vast expanse of Heaven rarely rang with anything other than suffocating silence and terrible decisions these days, in her opinion.

Yet Crowley could distinctly remember a time when all angels sang in Heaven, despite Aziraphale's denial of such things. 

She remembered a time when Heaven would be filled to the brim with the sweetest of celestial harmonies, carrying themselves across the skies and gracing every angel with the irresistible desire to sing along. 

She remembered a time when a golden haired angel would tuck herself away in a garden; lush, verdant life spilling at every edge, yet her focus resided only in singing softly to a single wilting flower, the pureness of the soft croon bringing it back from the edge of death with the warmest of smiles curling upon her sweet lips. 

Oh, how Crowley  _ remembered _ . She remembered how those blue eyes would flicker like lightning, verdant blue coming alive as a voice that couldn't possibly be described as anything other than truly  _ heavenly _ would pass through the angel's lips. 

She could never deny remembering, watching the angel pour such love into a single entity; she distinctly remembered wishing she could be that particular flower. The soft explosion of warmth in her soul–this was Love. And she was absolutely  _ smitten _ with her from that day forward.

After the Fall, after Crowley spent seven long days in the Garden quietly observing the angel and the two humans under her care, she realized that Aziraphale no longer sang.

Not to flowers, not to herself, not to anyone. 

Maybe  _ Heaven _ had changed that much since Crowley had Fallen, but with Aziraphale on Earth, she saw no reason that the angel had to abide by such ludicrous practices.

Perhaps Aziraphale chose to forget those times, too much emotionally to want for a Heaven comparable to the past, prior to the Fall. 

Yet there were moments, rare ones mind you, when Crowley would observe the angel's fingers tapping along to the rhythm of a song warbling from the old record player, lips moving without sound in unison as her eyes flicked across her latest textual obsession. 

Once, after a drive in the Bentley, Aziraphale tangled their fingers together and walked them down the sidewalk to the park with a small spring to her step, humming the song that had just been playing on the radio. 

Singing clearly made Aziraphale  _ happy _ and Crowley couldn't fathom why she would choose not to pursue something that brought her such joy.

_ "Honestly, Crowley, dear, I don't sing." _

_ "I remember a time when you used to."  _

_ "Well, that time is behind us." _

Crowley certainly wasn't shy about singing. She would often scream lyrics at the top of her lungs while speeding through the city streets. She would sing in the shower just to hear her voice echo almost hauntingly off the walls. She would sing to Aziraphale when they danced in the back room of the bookshop, voice low as she would croon the latest love song of the decade, her lips brushed lightly against the angel's ear until she'd sigh and melt into her arms.

_ "I've always loved hearing you sing, Crowley." _

_ "We could do it together, you know."  _

_ "Do what?" _

_ "Sing. You and I." _

_ "Crowley…" _

_ "You used to sing all the time, remember?" _

_ "Oh, darling, that was so long ago." _

_ "I know you miss it, angel. What are you afraid of?" _

_ "I'm not  _ ** _afraid_ ** _ of anything." _

_ "So?" _

_ "So, I just don't sing anymore." _

_ "Angel... " _

_ "That's enough, Crowley. I'm finished discussing this." _

* * *

There were exceptions to Aziraphale's reasoning of course, whatever they may have been.

There had been a handful of moments across history when their paths had crossed that Aziraphale had been unable to deny her natural desire to sing, especially when it came to God's Creation. 

When Crowley had smuggled a few of the local children onto the Ark during the Great Flood– _ completely _ to foil the Great Plan and  _ nothing _ else–she'd been more than a bit overwhelmed with just how much children, especially babies, cry. 

When Aziraphale inevitably discovered them during a routine walkabout of the Ark, Crowley had been nearly at her wit's end, hair mussed and robes disheveled–much to the angel's amusement.

_ "Have you never soothed a child before?" _

_ "Does it  _ ** _look_ ** _ like I have soothed a screaming child before?" _

_ "Well, allow me to assist you, my dear. Give them here." _

Crowley had reluctantly passed the screaming child to the angel after a moment of inner debate, too frazzled to seek out another option.Her serpentine eyes fixated on the angel suspiciously, watching warily in case she was trying to pull some sort of trick.

The angel wrapped the child up into the warmth of her arms, easing their head to her shoulder, bouncing them as her lips moved with words Crowley couldn't quite make out.

At first, Crowley believed Aziraphale was simply whispering soothing, if not ethereal words to the screaming child, but as the child began to grow quiet, the demon could hear the soft makings of a song; a lullaby. 

The entire lower half of the Ark had grown quiet, tranquil as the angel's soft voice washed over the space, lulling both children and animals to sleep and leaving only an angel and a demon aware to the night's journey. 

_ "Angel…" _

Aziraphale smiled faintly and settled herself onto the floor beside Crowley, still carefully cradling the sleeping child in her arms. She was practically  _ glowing,  _ a dim light in the darkness of the Ark.

_ "No need to thank me." _

Sadly, not every situation would be as painless as putting a child to sleep. At times, they proved to be much more difficult, some of them haunting their minds for centuries afterwards. 

One particular instance around the era of the Plague, Death and Pestilence wreaking absolute havoc across the humans of Europe, Crowley would never in her infinite lifetimes be able to forget. 

She remembered following a broken song down the filthy, empty streets, owned by a voice that she would have known anywhere.

She found Aziraphale, kneeling beside a corpse, frail in death and clearly too young to have understood the cruelty of the world. Another tragic victim of this horrible disease, the angel sang softly to them with a thick, wobbly voice, eyes damp with unshed tears and unaware of Crowley's presence.

_ "Aziraphale…" _

_ "I thought singing might bring him peace in his last moments…" _

_ "I'm sure it did. It was a lovely song." _

_ "This is terrible...All of this death, this  _ ** _suffering_ ** _ -" _

_ "This isn't something you can fix, Aziraphale. Best to just let it run its course." _

_ "The body count just keeps climbing...you turn a corner and it's just  _ ** _corpses-"_ **

_ "How long have you been out here, angel?" _

_ "How could this  _ ** _happen? _ ** _ How could She  _ ** _allow_ ** _ -" _

_ " _ ** _Hush_ ** _ , none of that now. You're going to say something you regret..." _

_ "I don't know what else to do. I-I'm just so  _ ** _tired_ ** _ , Crowley…" _

_ "I know, angel, I know. Let's get you out of here." _

Crowley had taken Aziraphale far from that city, far from the illness and the stench of death, choosing instead to settle them in an inn as they waited out the Plague–or at least until they got their next batch of orders.

The angel didn't say very much during that time together, but there were nights when she'd tuck herself up against Crowley's side and close her eyes, curling into herself so tightly as if she might disappear from the very universe.

_ "Crowley?" _

_ "Hm?" _

_ "Will you sing to me?" _

_ "Of course, angel. Anything for you." _

* * *

When dreams would twist themselves into distorted nightmares of burning bookshops and certain angels surrounded by Hellfire, Crowley would drag both herself and the duvet from the bed to make her way downstairs.

The bookshop was quiet, the cool glow of the streetlights washing over the room–sans the corner where Aziraphale sat, still awake and pouring over an outrageously dense book. She had the table lamp on, a terribly gaudy thing Crowley had gotten her as a joke a decade ago, the soft, warm light filtering out of the halo-shaped bulb into the folded angel-wing shade. 

_ "Oh, Crowley. I was just about to come up, I wanted to finish this chapter...What's the matter?" _

_ "Nothing." _

_ "Darling, you look positively dreadful, what's happened?" _

_ "Can I just...Can I just sit down here with you? Until you finish?"  _

_ "Of course you can, my darling." _

Crowley would always sit herself close to the angel on the couch, cocooned tightly in her blanket,her yellow eyes peeking out and fixated on Aziraphale's face as if cataloging every detail, the yellow of the lamp shining like gold on her soft features. 

_Still here. Still here. Still whole. Still alive. _**_Still_** **_with me._**

Typically, Aziraphale would say nothing for some time, pretending not to notice the uncomfortable stare or thick silence. She never could last very long, settling instead for closing her book and motioning for Crowley to lay down by patting her lap. 

Crowley would always accept the invitation, pillowing her head in Aziraphale's lap as gentle, knowing fingers would run through rivulets of hair, chasing the remnants of the nightmares away.

_ "Aziraphale?" _

_ "Yes, my darling?" _

_ "Would you sing to me?"  _

_ "Crowley…" _

_ "...please?" _

Aziraphale sighed heavily, fingers now collecting wild strands of red hair and weaving them into loose braids throughout. It was obvious that she had no desire to sing, but one look at Crowley's sullen face and lost expression softened her heart to something sympathetic, concerned even. 

_ "Alright. Close your eyes, my love."  _

* * *

_ "They say singing to plants helps them grow, you know." _

Aziraphale wrinkled her nose, giving Crowley an annoyed look. 

_ "Well, I suppose you'd better practice your singing then." _

* * *

_ "Come on, angel. Sing with me." _

_ "Not this again. Crowley–" _

_ "Just  _ ** _one_ ** _ song, Aziraphale. I know you want to." _

_ "Don't  _ ** _tempt_ ** _ me, Crowley."  _

_ "It's not really a temptation, angel. More like...an enjoyment of a shared interest." _

* * *

_ “ _ Crowley, would you please just  _ drop _ it?” 

The argument had been a long time coming, simmering on the back burner of their day to day lives as Crowley attempted yet again to coax Aziraphale to at least  _ try  _ singing once more.

It came to a rapid boil that evening when Crowley asked  _ why _ Aziraphale didn't want to sing anymore.

"I can't just  _ drop _ it! I want to  **help** you!"

The questioning had only seemed to upset Aziraphale more, and as a result she had begun moving about the shop, reorganizing books in a haphazard and desperate attempt to shake the demon who refused to back down in her quest for answers.

"Well, pardon me for saying that I do  _ not _ need  _ your _ help with this particular matter!"

Crowley paused, the words striking an oddly sensitive nerve somewhere deep inside her chest, one that caused her heart to simultaneously ache while her stomach roiled with nausea.

"And what's so wrong with  _ my _ help exactly?"

Aziraphale sighed heavily, running thick fingers through blonde curls in exasperation.

"Crowley, that's not what I–"

"So that's what it is. 6,000  _ fucking _ years we’ve known each other and you  _ still _ don’t trust me."

Aziraphale sputtered, taken aback by the demon's words and the burning hostility behind them. She opened and closed her mouth desperately, trying to find words of her own.

"It certainly has nothing to do with  _ trust–" _

"Am I just too _unworthy_ of your _kind_, **_angel_**_?"_

The pet name, usually said with such fondness and love instead came out sour and sharp in an attempt to hurt Aziraphale in a way that she herself had been hurt. 

She felt no satisfaction when the angel winced in response. 

"O-Of  _ course _ not–"

"Has this been a big joke to you then? Do you run back upstairs and have a good laugh with all your angelic buddies–"

"Crowley,  **stop–** "

"'Oh, look everyone! I've completely overcome the evil of this demon by using just a bit of  _ kindness!  _ Aren't I so  _ bloody _ clever? _ ’ So _ clever,  _ darling _ , got me quite whipped, haven’t you?” 

The angel stared at her for a long time, eyes wide and shining with tears, and Crowley felt the fire in her veins freeze, knowing immediately that she had crossed a line.

Before she could open her mouth, before she could even begin to  _ apologize _ , Aziraphale began to glow with an aura that burned bright and hot with  _ anger. _

“How can you  _ say  _ something like that?"

Crowley faltered, taking a step back. 

"Aziraphale–"

"How could you have so little  _ faith _ in my love for you, my trust in you, after  _ everything _ we've been through, you….you  **STUPID DEMON!** ” 

Aziraphale's wings flickered in and out of existence behind her, a clear sign that she was in no control of her emotions. She scrubbed angrily at the tears that had slipped free from her eyes, smearing streaks of gold across her cheeks as she turned to make her way toward the door that led out of the bookshop.

"Angel, where are you going?"

" _ Out! _ "

* * *

Aziraphale hadn't been gone for very long, no more than an hour tops, but that hadn't stopped Crowley from restlessly pacing the floor of the bookshop. 

They hadn't fought like that in  _ ages _ , the fight before the Apocalypse That Never Was not even as jarring as the one they'd just had. 

"Fuck,  _ fuck _ ,  ** _fuck…_ ** "

Under normal circumstances, Crowley wouldn't worry too much, giving the angel room to breathe before talking it out was always important to let her sort out her thoughts–but after the Apocalypse and the Hellfire and the bookshop  _ burning _ ...she couldn't help but be  _ fraught _ with worry. 

What if something happened while Aziraphale was gone? What if someone took advantage of the fact she was alone and vulnerable and…and whisked her back to Heaven? 

If something happened to Aziraphale, it would be Crowley's fault. 

" _ Fuck." _

In the blink of an eye, Crowley was seated in the Bentley with the motor running, no music playing as if it could sense the urgency of finding their priority. She swallowed, patting the dashboard soothingly.

"Let's go find our angel."

* * *

It wasn't all that hard to find Aziraphale. After all, there were only a few places she would have scurried off to to find peace at this time of night. 

After a mental process of elimination, Crowley drove the Bentley to St. James Park, immediately scrambling out of the car to scan the park in a way that could only be described as frantic.

She staggered forward with relief when her eyes found a familiar mess of blonde hair attached to a very familiar angel sitting on the bench they usually shared.

As she got closer, Crowley noticed the angel's eyes were closed with her face was tilted up towards the sky, lips forming words that the demon couldn't quite make out, but she knew this pose. 

Aziraphale was  _ praying _ .

Crowley stopped at the other end of the bench, standing uneasily as she watched Aziraphale in silence. Now that she was in front of the angel, knew that she was alright, a wave of anxiety flowed through her body. What if she didn't want to see her? What if she wanted to end things? Here she was pestering her again, like she's always done since Eden, while she was  _ praying _ of all things, and after that argument, she wouldn't blame her. She was always mussing things up, pushing too far, too fast, stupid,  _ stupid _ ,  ** _stupid_ ** _ . _

"Hello, Crowley."

The sound of the angel's voice startled her out of her spiral, especially considering Aziraphale's closed eyes and Crowley's near-silent approach. 

"How did you know it was me?"

"I always know it's you. Would you like to sit?"

"I wouldn't want to interrupt your...ah...thoughts."

Aziraphale sighed, opening her eyes as she turned her head to look at Crowley. Her eyes were damp, shining a pale gold in the moonlight. Crowley always thought it was a cruel aspect of divinity, to be cursed with such beautiful tears, to shine the brightest in the darkest pain. She looked so  _ tired _ , and the demon wished with her very soul that they hadn't fought, that she could simply wipe away the lustrous tears, to wrap the angel up in her arms, to make everything  _ right _ again.

"It's alright. I was just praying."

"Oh."

"She didn't answer."

Crowley huffed out a broken laugh, sinking down into the empty spot on the bench and settling into her normal lounging position, eyes finding the stars with ease. 

"She never does."

Aziraphale wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, saying nothing as she tilted her head back towards the stars. The silence ticked on, neither of them saying a word, tension fading as they allowed the beauty of the night sky envelop them in a warm embrace– _ familiar _ .

"You asked me why I never sing anymore."

Crowley winced, the enchantment of the stars shattered as she remembered the reason they were out here in the middle of the night in the first place.

"You don't owe me an explanation. What I said back there angel, I–I didn't mean it."

"We've both said things we didn't mean, darling."

"Still. You don't have to tell me." 

Aziraphale paused, as if choosing her next words carefully, before her hand settled in the empty space between them on the bench. Crowley followed, lowering her hand to join the same space, tangling their fingers together with ease.

A silent apology and a silent forgiveness.

The tension in Crowley's shoulders finally eased permanently as relief flooded her corporation.

"I think it's about time I do." 

"Whatever you like, angel."

Aziraphale squeezed her hand gently and sighed, an exhausted sound, bone-deep with sorrow and longing for time long past. 

"I used to sing all of the time. It used to come so naturally and I loved doing it, it was like second nature to me."

"I remember."

"When the angels Fell...Heaven was so  _ different _ . There had been so much fear, so much  _ uncertainty _ in the aftermath, it felt strange to try and carry on like normal." Aziraphale took a deep breath, shaking her head. "And for an impossibly long time afterwards, no one dared to sing in Heaven."

"Angel…"

"Some angels eventually picked it back up afterwards, helped them cope they said. It just wasn't the same, wasn't  _ right _ . Harmonies that used to bring such comfort were incomplete, lacking thousands of other voices, and they just kept carrying on like it was  _ normal _ !"

Crowley ran her thumb over the angel's knuckles, trying her best to be a comforting presence as she spilled her heart to the world.

"Oh, Aziraphale…"

"My faith had been  _ shaken.  _ I'd always felt so close to everyone, so close to  _ Her _ , whenever I sang...b-but…"

Aziraphale's voice wobbled the way that it did when she was close to tears, and a quick glance from Crowley confirmed as the beginnings of golden tears formed over blue eyes.

"You were afraid to be close to Heaven after the Fall. You didn't  _ want _ to be close to Heaven."

Aziraphale laughed, something wet and fragile as the tears finally spilled, slipping down her face and staining her cheeks with streaks of gold.

"We lost so  _ many _ , Crowley...How could I sing when She had allowed so many to Fall? H-How could I use my voice to blindly support what She had done?"

There had once been a time when Crowley had frantically hushed a distraught angel, an angel stricken with so much grief over the loss of so many innocent human lives that she vocalized her doubts in God's Plan. 

It was  _ Crowley's _ job to doubt God, it was the very definition of being a demon for Hell's sake, she had Fallen so long ago because of that doubt, those questions, but Aziraphale? 

Aziraphale  _ belonged _ in Heaven, and when she began to show doubt in God, Crowley had feared she would share the same fate, that Aziraphale would Fall from Grace just like she had. 

But to know that Aziraphale had  _ doubted _ since the beginning? To know that that doubt had not only been present, but had been  _ festering _ ? Had essentially stripped her of her voice, her  _ song,  _ caged in the confines of her own mind like a wilting songbird with her wings clipped in the struggle to fly away from her uncertainties?

Crowley didn't know how to feel about that, but it made something ugly twist in the pit of her stomach.

"Oh,  _ angel… _ "

"It's fine, _ I'm  _ fine."

"You aren't fine. It's  _ okay _ not to be fine."

Aziraphale sniffled, leaning over until her head came to rest on Crowley's shoulder. The demon brought one of the angel's hands up to her lips in order to press a loving kiss to the back of it, trying to pour as much comfort into the gesture as she could manage.

"I  _ miss _ it, Crowley."

"I know you do, angel. Believe me, I know." 

"And I feel just awful for saying those terrible things to you today. It certainly isn't your fault I'm this way."

"I shouldn't have pushed you to talk about something you weren't ready to talk about."

"It doesn't make it any more right."

" _ Aziraphale." _

_ "Crowley." _

Crowley tilted her head to rest against Aziraphale's, wrinkling her nose in distaste. There was no sense in arguing with Aziraphale when she was sure she was right. 

"You know what I think?"

"What's that, darling?"

"I think that you should sing because it's something you enjoy. You seem the absolute happiest at those times when I've seen you."

Aziraphale hummed in amusement. 

"I'm at my happiest with  _ you _ , my dear."

"All the more reason to sing then, yeah?"

Aziraphale said nothing, merely shifting her free hand over their linked ones so that the demon's hand was caught between both of hers. 

"I love you, you know."

Crowley smiled, a faint blush rising to her cheeks in the moonlight. 

"I love you too, angel." 

They sat for a long time after that; long enough for the chill to settle into their bones. 

"Crowley?"

"Yes, love?"

"I think I'm ready to go home."

"Then I'll take you home."

* * *

In the weeks that followed the conversation in the park, Crowley found that Aziraphale was a bit more relaxed, possibly even happier than she had once been.

More often than naught these days, her shop would be filled with music. There was a bit more of a spring to her step as if she were dancing and her smile had a bit of an extra shine to it whenever Crowley walked into the room. 

What caught the demon off guard more than anything, though, were the moments her angel would  _ sing.  _

_ “See the pyramids along the Nile…” _

The sound of the song drifting through the bookshop had caused Crowley to pause the moment she had walked in the door, frozen as the hypnotizing voice she had Fallen in love with so many years ago washed over her. 

" _ Watch the sunrise from a tropic isle…” _

The angelic voice was drifting from the kitchenette in the back, the pull of it irresistible to Crowley as she allowed the song to lead her through the bookshelves until coming to a stop in the doorway, eyes immediately softening at the source of her adoration.

" _ Just remember, darling, all the while…"  _

Aziraphale was busy fussing with the tea kettle, waiting in an endearingly human way for the water to boil as she absentmindedly sang along with the record spinning on the player. 

" _ You belong to me…" _

It was an older song, one that Crowley immediately recognized. It must've been redone at least a dozen times since it's original debut sometime in the 50's, and this version was one of the covers; a slow, intimate melody as if the woman on the record were crooning to a lover.

Not too unlike the angel in the kitchen.

" _ See the marketplace in old Algiers..." _

Aziraphale swayed mindlessly from side to side to the slow rhythm, a bit of a heavenly glow emitting from her as she found herself wrapped up in happiness.

Crowley almost didn't want to disturb her, didn't want to ruin the moment of absolute bliss that her angel had found in the music. 

" _ Send me photographs and souvenirs… " _

Unfortunately, Crowley found herself further drawn to the angel, moving across the small distance until her arms wound around Aziraphale's waist from behind.

" _ Just remember when a dream appears…" _

Aziraphale, to her credit, didn't falter in the slightest, instead placing her hands over the arms wrapped around her and continuing to sway until Crowley joined her in the motion. 

" _ You belong to me…" _

She had obviously known the demon had been there the whole time, and as the angel sank back into her arms, Crowley held her just a bit tighter, pressing a kiss to her shoulder in greeting.

" _ And I'll be so alone without you…"  _

It took only a moment for Aziraphale to turn around in her arms, greeting Crowley with a bright smile that the demon returned eagerly, a smile that only seemed to make the angel glow even brighter.

" _ Maybe you'll be lonesome too...and blue…" _

Crowley kept one arm wrapped around Aziraphale's waist, hand pressing lightly to the small of her back while the other slipped into Aziraphale's waiting one, easing them both into a slow dance. 

" _ Fly the ocean in a silver plane…" _

The angel's free hand moved between them, sliding up until her palm cupped the base of the demon's neck, thumb stroking the fine hairs where her hair began before easing the other's head down into the waiting curve of her neck.

Crowley sank into the embrace, eyes slipping closed as she allowed herself to be absolutely surrounded by Aziraphale. Her smell, her voice, her  _ warmth _ ; there was nowhere else in the universe she would rather be.

_ "See the jungle when it's wet with rain..  _

The angel's lips brushed gently against the tattoo by her ear, voice lowering just a bit to continue the ballad at a tone just above a murmur. It was soft, something only Crowley could hear, a promise of faith, of adoration, of  _ love. _

_ "Just remember when you're home again…" _

There is familiarity here, a safety neither has felt with their respective peers, but only with each other. Light and dark, softness and hard edges,  _ angel and demon _ .

_ "You belong…" _

Crowley squeezed her hand gently and Aziraphale returned the gesture, still leading them in a slow dance even as the song reached its final notes, fingers curled gently into the hair at the nape of the demon's neck. 

_ "To me… _ "

The song came to an end as did their dance, their already slow steps coming to a stop as silence covered the bookshop like a blanket. 

They stayed close, hands still intertwined, Crowley's face still tucked into the curve of Aziraphale's neck, still relishing in the afterglow of the angel's song. 

When Aziraphale made to withdraw from her with a squeeze of her hand, Crowley held onto her just a bit tighter, preventing her from leaving her embrace.

"One more song, angel? Please?"

Aziraphale hummed as she feigned consideration; the vibration in her throat caused by the sound felt almost like a purr against Crowley's face and the angel pressed soft lips to her temple.

"Alright, my love. One more."

With a snap of her fingers, the record player came alive again, crooning out soft words and slow rhythms as Crowley eased them back into a simple sway and Aziraphale eased into the song. 

They danced through one more song, then another, and another, Aziraphale's voice never once wavering as she sang each and every word softly into Crowley's ear, pouring all of the love of her very being into her performance. 

And Crowley felt herself Falling for the second time in her existence, this time far less painful as she swayed from side to side to the metronome of their matching heartbeats, as the angel sang for  _ her _ and for no one else, and she listened.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the song To Noise Making (Sing) by Hozier which is where the idea for this fic originally came from.
> 
> The song Aziraphale sings at the end is titled You Belong To Me, originally sung by Joni James in 1952. The version that I was imagining for this fic in particular is a cover that you can find [ here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R2Ag-2ifNqk)
> 
> What did you think?  
Comments are much appreciated :)
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr!](https://mollymauk-teakwood.tumblr.com/)


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